Getting to know Nick PT Barnum
Winter-time and the work was easy, thought Nick PT Barnum. But he never had to work
murders in Bridgeport, by the book. He sat at his desk with his feet up while Captain Jenny
Camacho sat on his desk directly in front of him. She was telling him that the statistics show that
only a mild decrease in the homicide rate during the cold months, at least if you consider a 20
percent decline worthy of the term mild. But in Jenny Camacho’s mind, the statistics can’t say a
goddamn thing when you’re standing over a dead body. It didn’t matter to her, one or a hundred,
it still felt the same way. Fucked-up.
When murders invade Bridgeport, it becomes a lonesome land. Not a sound on all the
expanses of asphalts and cement that make up the streets and sidewalks. It was as if the citizens
of the city were waiting for a hurricane to blow through.
"You know Nick," Camacho started. "You could almost hear the sadness."
"It’s a terrible experience, especially in the cold months," she continued. "The cold
keeps the loneliness closer to the heart. I mean look at the month itself. Nothing really happens
after Christmas and the New Years celebrations."
"There’s Valentine’s day."
"Fuck that," she half-laughed.
Nick enjoyed her company. She was a short female from the Dominican Republic. She
had a nice color to her skin with shoulder length jet black hair. Her eyes were brown, and very
round. She had a slight gap between her two front teeth, but it gave her a certain sex-appeal.
Nick found her extremely attractive. To him, she was more than just do-able.
"You didn’t just come here to talk murders, right?"
She looked away and did not reply.
"No," she finally replied.
"I don’t know how to ask you. I mean, I could be wrong, but I need to know," she said
without looking at Bridgeport’s famous Private Investigator.
Nick PT Barnum was a tall man with dark brown hair. His facial features were strong,
and almost too perfect. He had a boxer’s gait, and a wrestler’s swagger. Nick Barnum was also
"The need to know," Nick started. "It’s in our genetic make-up. The need to know."
"Okay Jenny, what is it that you need to know?"
"I think my husband is cheating on me."
"Now why do you suspect that?" Nick asked. "Lipstick on the collar?"
"His change of attitude,"she replied.
She looked confused.
"Are you rocking the bed-sheets?"
"How is that any of your business?"
"If the bedroom walls are sweating, I doubt he’s cheating on you."
"Sex," she paused. "Maybe twice a month, but it’s only because we both have a busy
"If I were married to you we’d be doing it everywhere. Elevators, taxi-cabs, trains, you
"Why don’t we have sex right now," Nick suggested. "If he is cheating on you, then just
consider this revenge. Trust me, I’ll try not to enjoy it. We’ll keep it on a professional level"
"Nick, you’re disgusting," she chuckled.
"I kinda want to know, so can you help me?"
"I thought you came here to visit me because we’re friends," he started. "But you just
came here to take advantage of my services. I am hurt, very hurt."
"Get over it, tough guy."
"Of course I’ll help you."
"But the sex invitation will always be opened for you,"he added. "It’s like a get out of
jail free card. Whenever you want to use it, it’ll be available."
"I’ll keep that in mind," she smiled. "What are you going to charge me, Nick?"
"Well," he hesitated.
"Go ahead, I got my check-book."
"If you show me your breasts I won’t charge you a thing."
"You’re so juvenile!"
She removed her top,
He was paid in full.
© 2011 Frank Atanacio
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